


Pandoran Sunrise

by sanguineOcelot



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguineOcelot/pseuds/sanguineOcelot
Summary: A standalone one-off for an Angel I appreciate - but I'm definitely not the Gaige in her heart. I'm the Krieg rampaging in the background with a bucket on his head.Take care of your Gaige, Clover. Keep her close. Maybe get some Anarchy ink while you're at it.
Relationships: Angel/Gaige (Borderlands)
Kudos: 9





	Pandoran Sunrise

Waves lap against the shore. Another peaceful night, the weather perfect - as it is every single day on Wam Bam Island, a spot of paradise on the hellworld of Pandora. Ever since the fall of Handsome Jack and the transfer of the Hyperion Megacorporation to his daughter Angel, peace has been returning to Pandora a tiny bit at a time. Communities growing, bandit camps cleared, savage wildlife corralled and domesticated. Wam Bam Island was always a paradise, and so very little effort was needed. It's really no wonder Angel set up a private vacation retreat in so beautiful a place. If only the nightmares would go away.

 **"BACK IN THE CAGE, ANGEL."** The voice fills her mind, twisting her body to comply. **"OVERRIDE 358-GAMMA. DO WHAT I TELL YOU."** The walls press in all around her. The connecting lines sink into the ports in her skull, drilled there years ago to harness her mind, her power, to make her a weapon. The video feeds return to her, but she wishes they wouldn't. She can't look away. His grin fills the video feed. Handsome Jack. The bane of her existence. **"GOOD GIRL, ANGEL."**

"NO!"

The scream of rage and terror shatters the night, accompanied by the harsh buzzing of igniting plasma. The shearing of metal and wood, the cries of startled sea birds, the echoes of her scream....and then nothing but the lapping of waves against the shore once more. Lights flicker and die, trying to illuminate the room, despite the extensive damage done. Angel, the Lost Siren, Slayer of Sanctuary, Scourge of Pandora, Unlikely Heir of Jack, kneels on the floor, spasms wracking her body. She can no longer tell where she is. When she is. Who is where, alive or dead, past and present blurred together incoherently. 

She's fortunate that she's not alone.

Strong arms embrace her, one of metal and the other flesh. There's a voice speaking - soft, female, murmuring words of comfort. The hum of Eridium nearby is a comforting, though not overwhelming, beacon to her senses. Gaige. The Mechromancer. Vault Hunter. The person who pulled Angel out of the cage. Who kept her heart beating when it tried to shut down. Who killed Jack. Who saved Pandora. Who went to such insane lengths to keep Angel safe. Who welded a band of gold around her artificial finger to match the one Angel wears on her own.

"It's okay, Angel. I'm here. Just breathe, okay? Just focus on breathing. I'm here. You're safe."

Her voice is calm. Soothing. It's how you'd talk to a wild animal that hasn't decided whether it wants to eat you or not. Is that fitting? Is that what Angel is? Everything is so blurry, it's hard to tell anymore. The smell of hot metal catches her attention. Bloodshot eyes crack open to survey the damage.

The bed is on fire, torn to shreds. Focused-plasma wings erupting from your back will do that. They're not supposed to be that hot. They're not supposed to be tangible. A proper Siren's wings aren't like that. But then, Angel isn't a proper Siren anymore. The wall behind the bed is torn open. Plasma wings will do that, too. The glow cast by the moon and the Hyperion orbital station render 'nights' here easy enough to see by, even with the lights nonfunctional. Another seaside shack ruined by her nightmares. All considered, though, not as bad as it usually is.

"I'm alright." The words are hoarse. Raw. A throat rubbed bloody by screaming. Was she screaming again? How loud, how long, must it have been this time, for her throat to hurt so badly? She's not alright.

"I'm here." Neither a confirmation nor a denial. Gaige knows she's not alright, but calling her on it won't help now. She knows what dream it was. She knows what Angel saw. She doesn't need to ask, but the offer is there. If Angel wants to talk about it, Gaige will listen.

She doesn't want to talk. She stands, legs weak. She's been out of her cell for more than a year, but she's still skeletally thin. Emaciated. Weak. Doctor Zed says the damage is probably permanent, her body accepting the form of a scrawny husk as its new natural state. The residual Eridium in her body will keep her alive, if only just barely, but food makes her sick. Any drinks but water make her stomach burn. The tremble of her hands is normal now. She can barely lift devices from tables to her digistorage module, worn on a belt to keep her load light. Gaige can put her fist through solid concrete, but Angel can barely walk unaided. It's almost not fair. 

"Why?" So many Whys to ask. Why did Jack imprison her? Why did she do as he commanded for so long? Why did Gaige save her? Why does Gaige care about her? Tens of thousands of innocents dead at her hands - figuratively speaking - but she gets to live. Why is that fair? Why does Gaige stay at her side, day after day, when she keeps doing this? Why is she even out here, when such a monster belongs back in its cage? Why-

Gaige embraces her again, from behind this time, the shorter woman resting her cheek against the back of Angel's neck. The Mechromancer's three Eridium piercings, rings carved from the most deadly, powerful substance in the Universe, ease Angel's anxiety. She considers getting some of her own, but that risks a degenerative addiction in Sirens. Her hands rest against Angel's prominent ribs, easily visible in the low light, holding her close. "I love you."

There's truth in the words, and a world of explanations. Love isn't rational. It's stupid. Blind. Stubborn. Dangerous. Love gets people killed, more often than not...but Gaige's love saved Angel. Gaige's love for Angel killed Jack, and saved Pandora. And here, on the sands of Wam Bam Island, in the face of the constant nightmares and unstable siren powers, even after waking up to screaming and fire, Gaige's love risks everything to comfort her.

The slender lines on Angel's back - perfectly straight, surgically perfect scars, remnants of Hyperion's tests and examinations - still pulse with heat. If Angel loses control again, the Siren wings-that-should-not-be-weapons will tear Gaige to seared meat. But she doesn't care about that. She risks everything to be with the woman - well, the broken Siren in the shape of a woman - that she loves. And...it's working. Her anxiety is receding. Her terror and anger and nausea are fading away at Gaige's touch. Maybe there's something to admire in Love, after all.

The sun is peeking up over the horizon, warming skin and metal alike. There's no need for clothing or modesty as they stand there. They are alone on the island, there's no need to hide their bodies or the tears on their faces. It's just another morning for them, facing yet another day on Pandora. There's still much to be done, but Angel's heart is lighter than most mornings. After all, with Love on her side, how can she fail?

**Author's Note:**

> A standalone one-off for an Angel I appreciate - but I'm definitely not the Gaige in her heart. I'm the Krieg rampaging in the background with a bucket on his head. 
> 
> Take care of your Gaige, Clover. Keep her close. Maybe get some Anarchy ink while you're at it.


End file.
